


Stake Through the Heart

by satan_sexy_dancing



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, Angel!Sandor, Buffy!Sansa, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5340782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satan_sexy_dancing/pseuds/satan_sexy_dancing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa has just moved to Kingsland, California with a big secret.  She hopes she can just leave it behind, along with her old identity.  But it seems she just can't quite hide from her past, as much as she might want to.</p>
<p>This is simply a shameless Buffy/GoT fusion, because imagining Sandor as Angel made me really happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stake Through the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know it's tagged and described as a fusion, but the only thing being fused are the worlds. Other than that, all characters will be from ASoIaF/GoT. I just really, really wanted this to be a thing and pretty much all the other attempts have pretty much been abandoned. So here's my go at it. I don't know if there will be any smut or anything in this, I haven't actually planned ahead for that kind of stuff, but that may change. Anyway, If you enjoy this, please leave a comment, because I do not often like to finish stories that I start and I really want to finish this one, so please give me an incentive to do so!
> 
> Also, I apologize for the boringness of this first chapter, but it should pick up in the next one. At least I hope it will. Anyway, the next chapter should be up within the next few days, and you'll be able to make your opinions then.
> 
> Thanks again! <3
> 
> (The title is a reference to a quote from the first season: "Oh, come on! Stake through the heart, a little sunlight. It's like falling off a log.")

_She’s sprinting. She’s bobbing and weaving through seemingly endless miles of underground tunneling. There are voices behind her, shouting. What, she does not understand, but she knows they’re not happy, so she’s not sticking around to find out._

_Never before has she been this fast. It’s exhilarating. Her long legs seem to pump faster as she—finally—nears the exit. It’s like the saying, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. She can feel it, she’s so close. She can no longer hear the voices behind her. Good, she’s lost them. Now, all she has to do is get to the light; all she needs to do is get out into the sunlight._

_She’s there. Almost. Ten more yards, maybe. Five. Three. And then. Then, the earth is yanked out from under her feet. She’s knocked onto her back, hard. There’s no more breath in her lungs. As she wheezes, struggling to regain control of her lungs, the silhouette of a man looms over her. She thinks she sees the glint of long, sharp canines as the man’s face get closer and closer and clo—_

Sansa wakes with a start, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. With a groan, she looks over at her alarm. 6:29, it reads. Exactly a minute before her alarm would go off. Disappointed at the loss of that minute, she decides to be proactive and hop out of bed to start getting ready.

_Woo-hoo_ , she thinks sarcastically, _a full minute ahead of schedule_.

After gathering her clothes, she heads to the bathroom, knocking on her sister’s door as she passes by it. “Get up. If you’re not ready in an hour, I’m leaving without you,” she yells when she hears her sister groan.

After a quick shower, a comb through her long, fiery hair, and a light dusting of makeup, Sansa heads downstairs to find everyone sitting around the breakfast table, all at various stages of alertness and slowly eating their food. Her father sits, reading the newspaper like all fathers do, and her mother also sits, reading a book. Her youngest brother Rickon is standing by the sink munching on some toast, like her older brother Rob, and Rickon’s hero, would normally do. Her sister, Arya, looks about to ready to pass out in her Lucky Charms. Bran wheels into the kitchen at the same time that Sansa enters. He’s the only one to look up and smile at her when she enters, and she helps him position his chair in the right spot to reach the food already laid out for him. It’s weird not seeing her three older brothers all joking around as they eat their breakfast, but Robb stayed up in Washington with his girlfriend, Jeyne, Jon is doing some sort of army training in Alaska, and Theon is visiting his birth father.

Sansa silently pulls a bowl from the cupboard and pours herself some Cheerios. As she sits down to eat, a majority of her family begins to engage in conversation. It’s strange that they must all be together in order to feel comfortable enough to talk. But that’s just how close her family is.

It seems that they all finish and must be leaving at the same time, because in a rapid-fire succession, everyone is making the rounds kissing each other on the cheek and saying a quick goodbye before heading out the door. Rickon leaves first, hobbling away to get his backpack in order for his first day of kindergarten, Bran following closely after to help him. Arya mumbles to Sansa that she just needs to put on her shoes and then they can leave, so Sansa puts her dish in the sink, kisses her parents on the cheek, and grabs her backpack, before heading out the door to wait for her sister.

“Have a good first day! Make new friends!” Sansa hears her mother exclaim right before she shuts the front door.

The ride to the school is quick and uneventful. But as her and her sister exit the car and walk up the stairs into the school, she feels everyone’s eyes on them. Is it that obvious they were new?

“Looks like you’ll have an endless supply of boys here,” Arya mutters to her as they pass a large group of boys eyeing them, one of whom was bold enough to wolf-whistle. Sansa grimaces and mumbles a small, “I don’t think so,” back.

They help each other find their lockers, which are conveniently right down the hall from one another, before finally splitting to go to their first period, the five-minute warning bell sounding off. With small promises to sit next to each other at lunch, they go their separate ways.

Sansa is immediately lost. She heads in the direction she thinks will take her to room F211, but winds up in front of the athletic training room. When the late bell rings, she decides, if she’s going to be late already, she might as well take the time to ask for directions.

She heads in, looking at the various exercise balls and small weights and the counter in the center of the room decorated with a plethora of athletic tape and a rainbow of pre-wrap. She calls out softly into the room.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” a voice says from behind her.

Gasping, she jumps and quickly spins around and immediately wonders how she didn’t see this woman the first moment she walked into the room. The woman is enormous, standing over 6 feet tall and obviously made of pure muscle. Sansa is no short girl—her “mile-long” legs are said to be one of her best features—but this woman absolutely dwarfs her. And the woman’s physique wouldn’t even be that bad if she had a pretty face, but her array of freckles and masculine jawline do not help in the slightest. Her (sadly, only) redeeming feature would have to be her beautiful cerulean eyes, brighter than even Sansa’s famous cornflower blue eyes.

“Sorry!” the woman amends quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Ms. Tarth, the athletic trainer.”

Sansa gives her a small smile and chuckles sweetly. “Oh, no, that’s alright. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Tarth.” She pauses for a moment before continuing. “I was just wondering if you could perhaps point me in the correct direction. I’m new here and I have absolutely no idea where my class is.”

The woman frowns ever-so-slightly. “New? Are you . . . Miss Stark?”

Sansa mirrors the woman’s expression and warily proceeds. “. . . Yes.”

The woman’s eyes instantly light up with recognition. “Oh, good!” she exclaims before heading back into the office that she had popped out of earlier—that Sansa must have failed to see when walking into the room. Gazing curiously through the window of the office, she sees the Ms. Tarth pull out a large book. She returns to her place right in front of Sansa and hands her the book.

On the cover, largely written in eloquent script, is a single word: _Vampyr_. Gasping, Sansa drops the book and steps around the woman, heading toward the door. “I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “That—that’s not for me.”

Sansa hears the woman begin to apologize, confused, but Sansa is halfway down the hall before the word “sorry” is even uttered. She is so busy trying to _get the hell out of there_ that she turns the corner and runs smack dab into someone.

The person’s books spill everywhere and Sansa apologizes profusely as she bends down to help pick up the stray school supplies. A sweet-sounding chuckle sounds and a smooth, feminine voice replies, “You’re fine, sweetie.”

Sansa looks up into a warm brown gaze. Sansa is kind of speechless for a moment; this girl is so beautiful, so sweet-looking. She has large doe eyes and a crooked smirk, and soft brown hair that flows down her back in beautiful waves.

“What’s your name?” the girl asks Sansa, to which she immediately squeaks back, “Sansa Stark”.

“That’s beautiful. Very alliterative. I’m Margaery Tyrell.” Margaery gives her a lopsided smile and Sansa finds herself smiling back. This girl radiates positive energy.

“You alright, Margie?” Sansa hears another voice ask. When Sansa stands up, handing Margaery her books back, she sees that the voice belongs to an equally beautiful boy. He has curly hair the exact same shade as Margaery, and eyes that seem to Sansa like molten gold. Sansa instantly blushes when he gives her a playful grin.

“This is my brother, Loras,” Margaery says with a roll of her eyes. “Ignore him. He seems hell-bent on charming everybody in a 100-feet radius.”

Loras throws his arm around his sister and hugs her to his side. “C’mon, sis, give me a little credit. It’s at least a 200-feet radius.”He sends a wink Sansa’s way, to which she immediately blushes once more.

“So are you new here?” Margaery asks without preamble.

Sansa nods. “My family just moved here last week.”

Margaery smirks again. “I thought I hadn’t seen you before. I’d like to think I know at least everyone in this school’s face, and I didn’t recognize yours. Hey, you want to come sit with us at lunch? You can tell me your whole life story.”

“Well, I promised my sister . . .” Sansa begins warily.

It’s Loras’ turn to roll his eyes. “Invite her, too. We don’t mind. It’ll be nice to have a couple new people at our table.”

“Okay,” Sansa says with a smile. “Sounds good. I’ll see you guys later, then.”

Sansa begins to rush off after they say quick goodbyes to her, not even noticing a few items had fallen out of her purse in her klutz moment. Margaery and Loras didn’t even notice them until Sansa had disappeared down the hall, out of hearing range.

Margaery picks up the discarded items with curiosity, the items being a tube of Chap Stick, a rat-tail comb, and a . . . wooden stake?

Her interest piqued, Margaery decides to question Sansa about the unusual object at lunch.

~*~*~*~

Sansa doesn’t know why she is hurrying away from the Tyrell siblings so quickly. It’s probably because she’s so excited at the prospect of having possibly made friends already. Or maybe she is nervous because the two were so incredibly attractive. Whatever makes her do it, she immediately regrets it, because now she is, once more, hopelessly lost in the winding corridors of the high school.

By the time she eventually reaches her class, AP Government, it’s already been in session for thirty minutes. There’s no way the teacher will believe the excuse that she simply did not know where to go.

Sure enough, as she walks in the classroom, the man up front gives her a stern look. “This late already, on the first day of school?” For some reason, she feels self-conscious. She doesn’t want to feel like a horrible person, but it probably has something to do with his looks.

He’s obviously a dwarf (little person? she does not know the politically correct term), and he’s not attractive by any means. His different-colored eyes are lopsided, and he as a large scar that distorts the rest of his face. But Sansa realizes he was only messing with her as a large smile breaks out across his features, and she decides these traits only add to his character.

The man points to the only empty seat right in front of him. “Sit there, since apparently no one else wanted the best seat in the house.” He leans forward and whispers conspiratorially. “Just between you and me, you’ll probably get the best grade in here. Almost everyone who sits there does.”

He continues on with class, re-introducing himself for her, as she missed his whole spiel. He tells them his name is, technically, Mr. Lannister, but they can all call him Tyrion when administration isn’t around. As he hops right into teaching, Sansa smiles a little to herself. Despite the encounter with Ms. Tarth in the training room, her day seems to be starting out alright.

~*~*~*~

After her first period, the next two drag on for seemingly forever. By the time lunch finally comes around, Sansa could not be more relieved. The only thing that had kept her going was the prospect of getting to sit with the Tyrells at lunch. Arya insists that she sit with some boy named Gendry, a senior she met in auto shop and with whom became fast friends. Sansa thinks this is kind of a lucky break, as she doesn’t know how well Margaery and Loras would take to Arya.

She spots Margaery and Loras sitting in the corner at a high table the same time Loras spots her and waves her over.

Sansa begins to walk over, tray in hand, when a body suddenly steps into her path. At the last moment, however, Sansa manages to side-step the person.  She turns to give the person a piece of her mind, but stops when she comes eye to eye with incredibly beautiful green eyes.

“You might want to watch where you’re going next time,” the handsome boy says with a smirk. He has blonde hair and the face of a prince. _The boy of my dreams_ , Sansa thinks to herself, but blushes at the prospect. “Sorry,” she says in a simple reply.

Intimidated for some reason by this boy, she turns to head back in the direction of Margaery and Loras, but he grabs her hand so she cannot move.

“Wait! Who are you?” he asks.

“Sansa,” she says, the blush still staining her cheeks.

The boy smirks again—Sansa’s beginning to think he’s incapable of doing anything but smirk. “It’s nice to meet you, beautiful Sansa. I’m Joffrey Baratheon, but you can just call me Joff.” Joffrey brings the hand that he had grasped earlier to his mouth and pressed a light kiss to the back of it. Sansa is a little charmed (okay, a lot charmed), but she pulls her hand away with a self-conscious smile.

“I’m sorry,” she says sweetly, “I have to go. My friends are waiting for me.”

Joffrey looks over her shoulder where Margaery and Loras are undoubtedly in his line of sight. He scowls a little before turning back to her. “Do yourself a favor, and forget them. Come sit with me instead.”

Sansa quirks an eyebrow, surprised at his change in demeanor. “Do you not like them or something?”

“What’s to like?” Joffrey says with an air of haughtiness. “They’re dull. And I don’t like dull.”

“Well,” she murmurs, pulling her hand out of his, “dull is exactly what I need at this point in my life. So, if you’ll excuse me—“

Joffrey scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What, you’re going to choose the bland Tyrell siblings over me? Do you not know who I am?”

Sansa rolls her eyes, too. “I know exactly who you are,” she says. “Your father is a wealthy businessman, who often deals with Direwolf Inc., which my father, Eddard Stark, just so happens to be the CEO of. They’re quite good friends, as I’m sure you know. So you see, Joff, I know who you are. I just don’t care.”

With that, Sansa turns on her heel and heads once more toward Margaery and Loras, who both have mixed expressions of shock and admiration written across their faces.

It’s not either of the siblings who first addresses Sansa when she reaches the table, but a pretty girl with white-blond hair and large violet (yes, _violet_ ) eyes. “Did—did you just tell off Joffrey Baratheon?” She pauses, looking at Sansa with awe. “God, I’ve been wanting to do that since freshman year.”

Margaery immediately begins to agree, Loras following shortly after, but a scream pierces the air, cutting them off.

Sansa’s head instantly whips in the direction of the sound of panic, and is out of her seat in no time. She sees a girl a couple yards away in a full-blown panic attack and heads over to her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks when she reaches the girl.

Fat tears are rolling down the girl’s cheeks and she’s attempting to regain control of her breathing by taking large gulps of air. “B-b-body,” is all she can manage to say.

Sansa looks to the girl’s friends that are surrounding her, trying to calm her down, but none of them understand what she means either.

Just then, someone shouts, “There’s a dead body in the girl’s locker room!”

Immediately, Sansa is sprinting there. She doesn’t know how she knows where to go, she’s spent most of her day so far lost, but in a few seconds, she’s right in front of the door, where a of couple teachers are trying to get students to back away. In the crowd of people, Sansa, lithe as she is despite her height, manages to slip in past them and into the locker room.

Sure enough, on the very first bench, is a purplish-blue, slightly bloated corpse.

Sansa creeps closer to the body, making sure no one else is in the locker room. Standing in front of it, she looks for any outward signs of a struggle, any obvious wounds. She’s stumped for a moment, seeing no obvious indication of the cause of death, but then she tilts the head to take a closer look at the neck. _There_.

~*~*~*~

“You know, it’s the damndest thing,” Sansa shouts as she bangs open the door of the training room. She throws her purse onto one of the benches and proceeds to pace around the whole room. “There I was, sitting at the lunch table with some nice, friendly people having a nice, friendly conversation, when, wouldn’t you know it, someone shouts that there’s a dead body in the girl’s locker room.”

Sansa sees Ms. Tarth emerge from her office, giving Sansa a confused look.

She continues her story. “And do you what I found on the body upon closer inspection? Teeth marks on the neck and the body completely drained of blood. Isn’t that curious?”

The woman sighs and runs a hand through her short, choppy straw-blonde hair. “I was wondering when it would begin.”

Sansa groans exasperatedly. “When what would begin?”

“This place, it seems to be an area full of mystic energy,” Ms. Tarth explains, almost excitedly. She goes into her office, pulling newspaper clippings and books out from her filing cabinets and desk. “There are hundreds of stories of strange occurrences and things that cannot be explained. There are signs, Sansa. Signs that something big is coming.”

The woman attempts to hand Sansa the information she has stockpiled in her office, but Sansa just shoves it all back at her.

“No!” Sansa shouts. “I just—I’m so tired of this! I’m retired, I don’t even care!”

Ms. Tarth gives her a curious look, setting the pile of papers and books down. “Then why are you here telling me all of this?”

“I don’t even know!” Sansa groans. She sighs heavily and slumps against one of the counters. “I don’t know.”

Ms. Tarth sidles up next to Sansa and sighs as well. “You know you can’t run away from your duties. You’re the _Slayer_ , Sansa. It’s not just something you can get rid of at the drop of a hat. This is your birth responsibility.”

Sansa narrows her eyes and snaps her head in Ms. Tarth’s direction. “Watch me,” she spits, grabbing her purse as she barrels out the door.


End file.
